


reddie oneshots!

by niiiiix (orphan_account)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is So Done, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Good Boyfriend, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Little Shit, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Eddie Kaspbrak is actually alive because i'm not a fucking monster, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Being a Dumbass, Richie Tozier Has Issues, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, end in kissing, hmmm, how do you fucking tag, how he manages richie i have no clue, i just like writing kissing ok, i would say that i cant tag these together because these oneshots are so different but they all, its sweet, like so done, oneshots, theyre in love thats all you need to know, what are tags, who are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/niiiiix
Summary: a little collection of my oneshots!
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 184





	1. the quarry

"They're gazebos, Rich. Fuckin' gazebos." Eddie scoffed, tossing a pebble into the quarry. It splashed and plunked down a few feet away without skipping.

"I-I'm sorry, gazebos?" Richie grabbed a flat rock, skipping it three paces and six-ish feet away.

"Fuckin'... Bullshit. They don't work." Eddie's eyes scanned for a good rock as he denied Richie eye contact. Gazebos. That word sounded familiar...Richie burst out into laughter, echoing both along the quarry and into Eddie's head.

"Gazebos? You-You mean fucking placebos?"

"What's a placebo?" Eddie tilted his head slightly, pausing his arm from the throw he intended to make. But Richie had to stop laughing first, which took much longer than Eddie would have waited for anybody else.

"Aahhh. A pl-" And Richie burst into another fit of laughter. Eddie rolled his eyes and changed course, throwing the rock at Richie's chest instead of the water.

"Beep-beep, Rich." He muttered softly.

"Sorry. Really, I am." But Richie didn't wipe off the smile.

"A placebo is a kind of medicine that has no effects _what-so-fucking-ever_ , but by being told that the medicine'll work, your body like makes the medicine itself or whatever. A gazebo-" Richie paused, swiveling then pointing behind him, "is that wooden tent lookin' ass over there."

Eddie's cheeks tinged pink, barely visible at the moonlit waterside, the reflection of the stars the only thing Eddie could see in Richie's glasses.

"Why would your mom give you a bunch of placebos? I know firsthand, the birth control she's taking works jus-" Eddie scoffed to cut him off.

"I don't know yet, Rich. Maybe she wanted an excuse to care for me. Maybe she needed me to rely on her. Maybe she just was a little over protective."

"Either way..." Richie said, watching Eddie's rock go an easy ten feet at six skips. "I don't think that's okay."

"Well. Yeah. But she fuckin' cares, you know? She could go opposite and not care at all. That might be worse."

"Yeah." Richie huffed, turning away to find a better rock. Eddie leaned back on his palms, his legs crisscrossed-applesauced. He closed his eyes, and let warm fall over him, as one would do on a summer day. And he smiled. Richie turned back around with what was probably a sarcastic grin (Eddie couldn't see very well).

"There's no good rocks over here. Hang on-" And all of a sudden, Richie leapt onto Eddie, his stomach over crossed ankles. Eddie's hands flew up in shock, dislodging tiny pebbles out of his palms.

"What the fuck, Rich, dude, that wasn't fucking funny, get up, _get your fat ass up_ , Richie I _swear to God_ I have a cut on my knee and if you fucking infect it with your nasty ass shirt I will _end your fucking life_ Richard T-"

Richie hopped off, sitting on his feet and knees, his hands full of rocks and his face full of the grin Eddie had grown to rely on.

"Hold out your hand."

"Fucking no, you'll see it as an opening and fucking tackle me again and if you cut your head on these rocks, head wounds bleed like a motherfucker and I'll have _a hell of a ti_ -"

"I know. You would. Hold out your hand." Eddie looked skeptically, but held out his hand in a loose palm-up fist.

Richie opened up his hand, placed some smooth and weighted things (probably rocks) into his hand, and closed Eddie's fingers overtop, where his own hesitated for just a moment. That moment let Richie shove out a "Chill out, Eds. I just grabbed some rocks for you to toss because clearly I'm totally ass at it."

But that moment let warm flush all over him again, starting at his fingertips and ending at his ears. In a second though, he regained himself. "Yeah. You fuckin' suck. Like right before Bev left, you pelted her in the nose, for fuck's sakes! you were a whole fucking one-hundred-and-eighty degrees off!"

Richie laughed. "Your mom was last night, too." Eddie glared at him.

"That one was awful. Please never be a comedian."

Richie turned, laying on his side to face Eddie. However, he was too preoccupied skipping stones to notice. "What do you want to be when we get out of here, Eds?"

Eddie scrunched up his face as he threw another rock (awfully. Two feet, one skip). "Who says I'm leaving?"

"You don't know that shit yet?"

"I hadn't really thought of it. I'd been more preoccupied this summer with the rest of the Losers. Kept me more busy than I have in a while. Especially you. You're a lot of work, Tozier."

"Your mom's a lot of w-"

"I GUESS," Eddie began loudly, stopping Richie, "That I'd be something that played to my strong suits. Like knowing what to be afraid of. I don't know. What do you want to be?"

Richie looked him dead in his starlit eyes.

"Out."

"What?" Eddie sputtered, dropping a rock.

"Of Derry. Jesus fuck."

"Right. Fucking duh."

"What did you think I meant?"

Eddie put his whole arm into his last rock, which was white with a black vein running through it. When he was little, he used to wish on them before chucking them into the quarry

"Of your Adderall. You're out of control, Rich."

"Maybe I am, Eds." The rock made an easy sixteen feet, with twenty little pops on the surface before it sunk. Richie sat up, the boys' knees bumping.

"I fucking suck."

"Must be why they call you Trashmouth, huh?"

"I meant with the rocks. Real fucking funny though, Eds."

"I learned it from you."

"Thought I was the world's worst comedian?"

"Don't forget suckiest rock skipper."

"Richie Trashmouth Tozier; World's Worst Comedian And Suckiest Rock Skipper." Richie said, displaying the invisible name between two hands in the air.

Eddie nodded. "Your marketer is gonna have a hell of a time fitting that on your playbill."

"Playbill?"

"Pamphlet. Whatever comedians have."

"You think I could make it as a comedian?"

Eddie nodded, laying down. "I don't see why not. Your mom jokes, swearing, retaliations, ADHD. You were built for it." He said, counting off the traits on his cast hand.

Richie laid down too, laughing. "I don't know if I actually have ADHD, Eddie."

"What do you mean? You've never gotten it checked out?"

Richie shook his head.

"How? Don't you ever go to, like, the doctors? They could do something, surely."

Richie shook it again. "That's therapy. I thought you of all would know that, Eds."

Eddie frowned. 

"What do you think's out there?" He asked instead, motioning to the stars.

"Uhhh. Stars. You're seeing them too, right?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. "No, like what's around the stars. You can't see that because like our eyes can't pick it up or something. Magnification and whatnot."

"Isn't that just...Darkness?"

"It's interesting. I'm surprised you can't see Pluto from here with your glasses alone."

Richie sighed, took off his glasses and faced Eddie. "I can see stars without them, surprisingly enough, Eds."

Eddie couldn't recognize what was laced throughout his voice, pure irritation, and... Something else. Something smooth. And warm.

Eddie turned to face Richie. "You aren't looking at the sky, fuckface."

"I don't have to."

Eddie's cheek smushed against his cast arm as he lay there, sideways. Richie was in a similar position, with his other arm laying over his chest and his legs much more curled up.

"I think," Eddie began, his voice hushed so softly Richie had to lean in to hear it. "There are millions of planets out there. One at least will be one that we can use, in case the Nuclear war happens and fucks up Earth."

Richie closed his eyes. "How would it fuck up Earth?" At this point, he just wanted to listen. For once.

"So immediately at least 77 million people would die, at most 160 at first impacts. That's just America. Then would come the radiation sickness, which would kill from 13 to 34 million people, and there would be a nuclear winter because the fucking blasts would basically inject soot and shit into the stratosphere and then it would block the sun so all of Earth would get real cold, real quick and- Wait. Why do you want to know?"

Richie shrugged. "I like listening to you."

Eddie was taken aback by this. Trashmouth? _Listening?_

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. Hey, who signed your cast?"

Eddie, realizing he would only be able to see the bottom half of the _'LOSER'_ Greta Bowie had written, jumped up and jerked his arm away. "Nobody."

Richie jumped up too, a grin Eddie only saw before trouble displayed on his face. "Who is it, huh? How'd they get signing rights before us, huh?" Richie gasped. "Are you _dating_ someoooooonnneee?"

Eddie's ears went hot. "No! That's gross!"

"Suuure."

"Really! It is!"

"Fine, Eds. I'll drop it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Eddie relaxed, and closed his eyes.

"PSYCHE, motherfucker!" Richie jumped basically on top of him, holding his cast arm above his head. He twisted his head to get a better look while Eddie tried to worm his arm out from underneath Richie's knees.

"What the fuck Richie, what the actual- Owwww that hurt! You fucker, _get off my arm_! What if you broke it in a different place-or the same place so I have to wear the cast again? Break re-enforcement is _serious_ shit, and-"

Richie lifted his knee and stepped away.

"Who wrote that?"

Eddie caught his breath after a moment. "What?"

Richie closed his mouth.

"You're fucking concerned about who wrote that when you could have re-enforced a fucking break just now?"

"Yeah."

Eddie looked away and sighed, still on the ground. "Greta Bowie."

"Bitch."

"It's not like it's the worst I've been called."

"But it'll stay there. For weeks. When they just call us names, we can think about something else. But that's _there_ , Eds."

"I guess."

"Give me your arm. I'll fix it."

Eddie, more trusting this time, put his fingertips into Richie's palm. He held his fingertips, pulling Eddie's arm. He uncapped a red Sharpie with his teeth.

"Where did you get that?"

Richie laughed. "Didn't you see me sign all of the rocks before I gave them to you?"

Eddie scowled. "No! That's like vandalism! You could get in some serious shit for that! What did you write?"

"'Trashmouth'."

"I hope you don't get in trouble. I'd hate to see you go to, like, jail."

"You don't go to jail because of vandalism."

" _I DON'T KNOW_!"

"Fixed."

Eddie inspected his arm. "' _Lover'_?"

"Better than _'Loser'_." Richie shrugged. He realized he still had a hold of his hand and hastily let go.

"Red means love."

"So does lover, fuckface."

"Why _'Lover'_?"

"'Cause. It's the first thing that came to mind. It's only a letter off from _'Loser'_ , though, so don't get all high and mighty. You can still kind of see the S."

Eddie yawned. "I should go home. My mom's gonna have a cow."

"Your mom _is_ a cow."

"Nothing I can do about that."

"You could stay."

"Here?"

"Why not?"

Eddie looked aside. It was doable... It would also be probably one of the first times that he's broken curfew intentionally.

"Fine. But you know she'll be here just a minute after I'm late for curfew. The police might be with her."

Richie shrugged and Eddie sat back down.

He fiddled with his watch. Which would start beeping any moment from now.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm nervous. My mom might faint when she sees the dirt all over me, sitting by water at night- I could totally get hypothermia, did you know you can get hypothermia even if the water's just _one degree_ below your body's basal body temperature?"

In response, Richie stood up, paused...

And ran straight into the water. He didn't even take off his shoes.

" _Vamos, señor Eddie! Nosotros zapatos de agua_!"

Eddie paused.

"We water shoes?"

"Our shoes will be wet."

"That is nowhere near close to what you said."

Richie shrugged.

Eddie stood up. "Why don't you take off your shoes? Or your socks?"

"Any more requests?" Richie taunted, waving his head back and forth with his hands on his hips. Eddie's ears burnt-they would have been warm to the touch, had anyone felt them. He reached forward to hit him, but Richie stepped back. Eddie had barely caught himself before falling.

"Holy shit, Rich! I could have just died! What if I fell, and got, like, something fucking stuck in the rocks, and drowned? Or what if I fell, and hit my head on a rock, passed out-slash-bled out, and died? While drowning? Plus, there is no way that fuckin' water is 98 degrees, I could hav-"

"Dude. Just shut up and take off your shit already."

Eddie frowned, like he wanted to hit Richie, but obviously knew about the repercussions. He sat down and methodically untied his shoelaces, slipped off his shoes, took off hisnsocks, folded them, and placed them inside his shoes. He was halfway through rolling up his pants when Richie sent a wave of water his way. He cackled as Eddie repeated his monologue. Finally, Eddie stood up.

_What if the rocks are sharp? What if they have bacteria on them and they cut your feet? What if the water's too cold and it gives you a cold, or hypothermia? What if-_

His mom's false warnings were drowned out by Richie's laughter.

_Now,_ he decided, _Spending now with Richie is more important than a two-day cold._

Eddie's left foot went in first, and _fuck_ if it wasn't cold. _How did Richie charge right in like that_?

"It's easier over here. The rocks turn to sand."

Eddie took pained steps, expecting each one to be his downfall, but still going forward. Eventually, he had reached Richie, and he was right. The ground was much better over here.

"Hi."

"Hello, Eds."

"How are you on this fine evening?"

Richie slipped into his British Voice.

"Why, I find it a bit soggy out 'ere 'or me own taste, I do."

Eddie giggled. "That one's new."

"What should I call him? What's something incredibly British?"

"Oliver...Crumpets?"

Richie's grin grew wider. "Yes! It's perfect! Great job, Eddie Spaghetti!"

Eddie rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "I wish you wouldn't call me that."

"That sucks..."

"Please don't-"

"Just like your mom!"

Eddie splashed him in retaliation, then upon seeing Richie's grin, he wished he hadn't.

"Oh, fuck."

Richie kicked the water- _with his shoes on_ \- right at Eddie. A huge wave of water absolutely drenched him.

"What the fuck?"

Eddie tried not to freak out, and impulsively also tried to kick water at Rich, but that just resulted in an extreme loss of balance. He fell almost on top of him, Richie's hands ended up stabilizing him.

"Aww, Eds, was that you trying to get me _baaack_?"

"Shut up!"

"You're so cute, Eddie!" Richie said, grabbing Eddie's cheek and pulling it around between finger and thumb.

" _Owww_! Fuck, Richie! I told you that I hate it when you do that!"

"What would you rather me be doing?"

"I would rather you be upset with how much water I kicked at you. Because in this scenario, I actually moved more than, like, a cup of water."

Richie shook his head and shoulders, ironically like a dog coming out of water, then mumbled something that sounded like "Sure, Spaghetti. Just gotta get into character first."

Before Eddie could begin to wonder what that meant, Richie took a huge gasping breath (Eddie's hand instinctively went into his pocket for his aspirator at the sound) and plunged into the water, Eddie's shock being followed by some bubbles and Richie's glasses. He grabbed them, clutching ( _/smudging_ ) the thick lenses as if they were something vital, something he needed to snatch because otherwise he might not be able to function.

"What the fuck- fucking fuck- _RICHIE_!" Eddie screamed, really worried now. It had only been a few seconds, but this was Eddie Kaspbrak. In his opinion, Richie might be dead. This very thought brought tears to his eyes.

He tried looking into the water, but the sand moved by Richie's trick combined with the blurry eyes had made it too hard to see in. He turned around, 180 degrees, before Richie popped up in front (previously behind, which was the point of this...joke) of Eddie with a frightening scream. Instead of reacting in any scared way as Eddie should have or would have done, he threw his arms around his neck and let the couple of tears fall.

"That wasn't...fucking funny... You're fucking crazy..."

Richie hadn't yet moved his arms out of shock; he shortly came back to his senses and wrapped them around his waist.

"Gee, Eds, didn't mean to scare you."

A million things popped into Eddie's head just then.

_What if he touched some sort of rust, or algae or something down there? He's wet and cold, he could give you hypothermia._

But the foremost thing-

_Richie's fine._

"Not that this is worse than my pinching your cheek or anything, but you are totally fucking digging your nails into my neck"

Eddie took a sudden step away and his ears went hot- so hot, in fact, he felt _sure_ if you pushed the side of your head into the water, steam would pop up. "Oh, that wasn't my nails. That was your glasses, which you didn't look for at all."

He handed them over, but Richie didn't put them on yet.

"I didn't have to. I knew you'd grab them." He looked at Eddie with a specific type of glance he convinced himself was the fault of the lack of glasses.

But nevertheless, he felt something underneath him. The reliability on Eddie will always be there, the fact he didn't question it for a second, but most importantly, how badly Eddie hurt for those 28 seconds.

"Why do ya have your inhaler?" Richie asked.

And Eddie, scared shitless but somehow never being more sure of someone in his life, shook his inhaler in his hand once, listening to the rattle for half an eternity.

"For after this."

And he got up on his tiptoes and hovered just above Richie's lip, letting out a shaky breath above him before Richie unfroze and sealed the gap.

It wasn't what he expected, it wasn't like kissing that girl's cheek on Valentine's day in second grade, where she smelled like medicated lip balm and peach yogurt. This was more.

It was wet, they were both _drenched_ , it smelt just a bit of rainwater, but it was warm. And Eddie supposed that's what he had been searching for this whole evening, warmth from Richie when he only got the coldness of cough medicine from his mother, and more of that warm used his fingertips to brush his jaw before deciding on a place to stay and radiate, another entirely separate warmth held Eddie at his side, like they had when they hugged. Eddie's hands went where they could comfortably reach, loosely resting on the area between his neck and collarbone, fingers sitting on the former. His inhaler was smashed between his cast hand and Richie's neck, but Eddie supposed he didn't mind.

If Eddie could stay, like an eagle, circling around in the heat, he would. Unfortunately, this kid had asthma. He pulled away and gasped, and sucked on his inhaler until he felt his throat open up.

Richie's hands jumped away, and he made a show of wiping off his glasses on his shirt (a useless act, it was still sopping wet) then unfolding them and putting them on. However, he smiled the biggest he has in a long while.

"I don't think you have the right to call me Trashmouth anymore."

"'Richie Trashmouth Tozier; World's Worst Comedian and Rock Skipper, However, He's A Pretty Good Kisser'. Have fun putting that shit on paper."


	2. bandaids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richie has Internalized Homophobia at night  
> then Eddie does too  
> they kiss on the last day of summer

_Trashmouth_.

That's what everyone knew him as, because Richie was much more forgettable than _that fucker with the your mom jokes_.

If you were to ask him, he'd say he loved the name. "Building up a rep with the kids!" He'd say with a wink, "'Cause I already have one with the women,"

The truth was, he hated it. He hated it before It, he hated it more after. At first it was just kids calling him a name, one Richie didn't like it because he despised how he covered himself up with jokes so much so to the point where that was his only recognizable feature. After, he hated it because of the taunting It did with the ' _nickname_ ', and his ' _dirty little secrets_ '. Yeah, Richie Tozier had secrets, but didn't everyone?

To be fair, not everyone's secret was that they were in love with their best friend.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

He didn't get a nickname, but Richie saw that as a good thing. One time, he referred to him as the 'Medicine Man', but that caused an awful lot of glaring, and a quiet "Beep, beep, Richie." Stan broke the silence with a line about how he was the only Man there, but the damage had been done. That was the second time the Losers had seen him speechless. That was the last.

Richie loved Eddie, and he was the only one he wouldn't hate for calling him Trashmouth. It felt like... Like a match striking the side of the box, the heat with the slight buildup, then the burnout once Richie made another joke. He couldn't really help it.

At first, it was just because he realized he had fallen for a boy, and he knew that was wrong. But he couldn't stop crushing, so the jokes wouldn't stop either.

He couldn't stop crushing because of Eddie. Eddie tying his shoes every ten minutes, recapping his meds, saying- "That wasn't funny, fuckface! I could have died!"

"You fell into a puddle. I tripped you. I'm sorry, SpaghEddie."

"I could get ringworm, or a Staph infection, maybe even MRSA. Do you know how deadly that could be?"

Eddie started hyperventilating. Richie saw through all the shit his mom gave him awhile ago, and he could tell Eddie was about to have an 'asthma attack'. He pulled him into a tight hug, his arms resting on his shoulders and keeping him close. "It's okay, Eds. You're safe and healthy. You're here, and you're totally fine. I wouldn't let shit kill you." He felt Eddie's breathing slow, but neither of them moved. They stayed, safe, if only for once that whole summer, in their own corner of forever.

Richie would often lay in bed, the blankets tossed at his ankles and his hair all knotted thinking about him. He thought of everything, really. He didn't think of how Eds might like him back- that wasn't going to happen. He shouldn't raise his expectations. He'd just get hurt.

Richie loved Eddie, and he felt bad for it. He occasionally writes it off as platonic, then wonders about how his hands would feel on his chest and hips, or how his lips would feel on his neck, or if he would need his inhaler after-

Then he felt disgusting, perverted. So he thought about holding his hand, and pinching his cheek. Then he felt like it was just platonic love again, and thus was the cycle.

He thought and thought and thought about Eddie, and when he was with him, his whole brain went blank, and he just barely functioned by laughing and walking.

_You don't want to get hurt, Eddie, you don't want to get sick._

That's how he survived for the past 7 years. By placebos and lies and bullshit. His mom kept feeding him that bullshit, and Eddie bought into it, thinking that if he died, he'd leave his mom all alone, and she would have nobody. He didn't have anybody for a while, too, which was also why he believed her.

Now he knew he didn't have asthma, or anything else. Anemia, Influenza, the mysterious "sickness" that according to her, he never got over. But he needed the inhaler anyway. A coping mechanism. He didn't know he didn't need it at the beginning of summer, so while he made memories, he puffed. Thinking of them, he needed to too. Just to breathe, just to live, because sometimes It scared him so bad, he thought he'd rather die.

One time, he left it at home (or maybe it was just empty, he couldn't remember). It had scared him shitless, and he had no air, his lungs stopped, he couldn't fucki- HE CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE!" Richie yelled at the others while they sat in shock.

"W-wuh-what do you w-want us to do about it T-trashmouth? He has a-ah-ah"

"Asthma" Stan finished for him. "This happens all the time, you know that."

"Yeah, but usually he has his fucking INHALER. Where is that now, Denbrough?"

The Losers stayed quiet. Bill was the leader, and nobody ever spoke to him like that.

Eddie didn't take note of any of this. He thought he was going to die. He reached for Richie's hand and squeezed it tight enough to where he probably would have lost circulation, but Eddie didn't think about the repercussions of that now. He just needed something to bring him back to Earth and keep him from floating. Richie squeezed back, not knowing how else to help. Eddie thought he saw his eyes tear up, but it was just a fleeting glance.

He held Eddie like that, they rode through it together, until Eddie was in a heap in Richie’s lap past sunset, who dragged his fingers through his hair, whispering reassurances 

Eddie thought of that every time it takes him even an extra second to find his inhaler, how Richie saved his airless body from floating. He couldn't bring it up now, it was too late, but he always thanked him silently once he could breathe.

Because Richie brought real security. His mom bought him with tap water and Ibuprofen, but Richie had hugs, and he could comfort and protect him. That's what Eddie needed most of all. A truth. But he couldn't have it, not all the way. Richie's had, like, twelve girlfriends. He doesn't like boys.

Eddie liked to think about Richie, whenever he found he could breathe steadily. Particularly all the ways he could help and protect him.

_Beep, beep, Rich_.

"That one wasn't even a joke!"

"Doesn't give you the right to make me more anxious by hearing about school starting from you."

"It's tomorrow, Eds."

He covered his ear with his hands. Richie was sitting next to Eddie on the garage couch outside of his house, his ankles crossed with Eds'.

"AHHHH! NO THANKS!"

Richie pulled a hand away.

"What scares ya so much? The fact everyone will go, oh look, there's Richie Tozier, and his-"

Boyfriend. Both of them wanted Richie to say it, neither dared. Richie's hand jumped off of where it had lingered.

"one friend, with the mom he fucks all the time."

"BEEP, BEEP!"

"Okay, I'll give you that one."

Eddie didn't say anything.

"Seriously, Eds, what scares you? Is it Bowers? I won't let him get to you this year. I'll protect you."

Eddie sunk into him, even though all his instincts set off fire alarms and told him no. "Are you sure?"

"Always, Eds." They looked into each others eyes. Looking for an answer to the same question. Neither of them really got it, because they were too blind to really see the other, in a way.

Richie was full-fledged between his knees, both of them unsure at how he’d gotten there, but Eddie didn't jump back at first impact. He didn't do anything but slide down, just a little, for Rich.

Richie had leaned in, mumbling an "Always," into Eddie's cheek, his mouth, his neck, wherever he let him. He let him, and he thought of them like band-aids.

I'm safe here, he thought, anywhere Richie left a kiss, and here and here and here.

_I'm safe here, with him, no matter what, They both thought_. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this kind of feels like shit but i wrote it like months ago at like 3 am so  
> ive got about 3 more chapters ive already written and just need to post, and i will probably write more after  
> if y’all have suggestions i’d love to hear them


	3. they're kissing, also update/plan for future chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kissing, and plans for chapters in the future

hi!!!

i can't believe how much attention this has already recieved, thank youuu

as for future chapters:

ive got two already written, and four i am currently writing/planning.

there will be a valentines special (but it might be a day or so late because i am so bad at planning) but i'll try my best at getting it out in time haha!

anyway, here's the kissing y'all were probably clicking on this for:

_I painted those nails_ , Richie thought, watching Eddie's hand hover over his cheek before dragging purple fingernails through his hair. Richie gleamed, smiling bright, feeling bright and happy. Maybe he was a little high, but he felt magnetized to his Eds. Eddie grabbed a fistful of curls. He didn't pull, but that was enough. Richie leaned forward with a dopeish smile on his face.

"You're an idiot, Tozier," Eddie said, smiling into the kiss as well. He dropped his hair and just cradled the back of his head.

Richie giggled, placing his knees over Eddie's thighs, leaving just a few inches between them.

_This is probably what grownups miss about being a teenager_ , Eddie thinks. T _he hurried, high kisses that make you feel all yellow inside, like you're in your own little pocket of time. The hesitation as to what the word more meant just then_ , how unbelievably wonderful Richie's lips felt on his neck, how he couldn't decide on a place to grab, tugging on the end of his shirt, placing them decidedly just underneath, just above his hips. He wasn't quite moaning, but he made the hushed noises Richie was looking for.

Eddie's hands found their way up, and he tugged on the shirt once he hit ribcage. The boy shivered, and paused from Eddie's neck.

"Eds, are you sure?"

He nodded and sat back so Richie could take it off.

His hands hovered above the sides of his shirt, _should I really do this?_

He looked up at Eddie, who had a flushed face and rumpled pants. Before he knew it, the shirt came off, and Eddie's hands were gingerly at his collarbone. Richie shook his head. "It's alright, Eds."

He flushed at that, and Richie admired that sight. But he dove back in, working on a spot just underneath his ear.

Eddie's legs were launched up, his thighs on top of Richie's, who was leaning over him. It was all he could do to just lock his feet at the back.

He felt him kiss and kiss, and he felt so happy. He felt loved- the real kind of love, not the kind his mom ever gave him. Real love, the kind that keeps the butterflies there, the kind that makes you feel like you aren't an obligation or a patient, is all Eddie really wanted.

Richie was good at that. And apparently, making out. _Really_ good at that. He hadn't had much practice, but he wanted Eddie to feel loved and bright, not to mention the fuel that was Eddie's thighs on top of his, or how his hands kept roaming his back, unable to find a settling place.

They didn't go further, they stayed like that until Eddie was exhausted and Richie's lips were swollen, the boys were warm, high, and in each other's arms until the next day.

i don't write smut haha

they're aged up

a couple months ago i just felt like writing kissing for them so yeah that's what that was haha

i just realized (reading over all of these) how often i emphasize the fact that eddies mom sucks and richie like,,,actually loves him ahaha

okay bye :)


	4. breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys realize they're in love at the very same moment. then they kiss because im a whore for writing kissing scenes
> 
> sorry this is a little late, valentines special coming soon!

_I'm in love_ , he thinks, looking at the curve of his nose leading into his cherry-ripe lips, into what is, in Eddie's opinion, a _killer_ combination of a jawline and an Adam's apple.

_There's no hope for me_ , he realizes, listening to his laugh. Feeling it in his chest, in his heart.

None at all. Eddie fell for Richie. Not all at once. Eddie liked to pick him apart and find new reasons to love him.

_Like his shirts. The Hawaiian ones he always lets me take._ He glances down at Richie's chest, which was rising and falling slower and slower as he calmed down. Unfortunately, Richie was wearing his plain old Freese's shirt (Not that Eddie was complaining too much- Richie has grown the past couple of years, and Eddie adores the way the shirt now falls over his shoulders).

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Richie asked. Eddie got caught in the magnified pools of brown sugar and honey before he could make a response.

"Like what?"

"Like..."

_Like all the stars are in your eyes?_

_Like all the force of the ocean is in your laugh?_

_Like all I'm looking at something beautiful and disastrous at the same time?_

"Like I stole something from a department store."

"Like _what_? How do you know what that looks like?"

Richie shrugged with a mischievous grin. "How do you think you got your step-stool?"

Eddie smiled and shook his head. "Yeah, right."

"..."

"Richie..."

"..."

"You didn't..."

"Well-"

"Oh my God, you totally did, _what the fu_ -"

"IN MY DEFENSE," Richie grabbed Eddie's bicep and threw his other hand against his mouth. "In my defense," He tried again. Eddie flushed pink. "I was at least nice."

Eddie swatted his hand off of his mouth.

"Wha-Richie! That doesn't matter!"

"Sure it does." He must have only just realized he was still holding his arm because he suddenly dropped his hand like it was dead weight, although it was anything but. Nerve endings firing like gunshots on his palm made him want to hold and hold _and hold_.

_All at once_ , Richie realizes. _I've fallen all at once_. His feet used to be firmly planted, now they're flying off the board, bracing for impact.

He zones out in the middle of their conversation, his eyes unfocused and looking right through Eddie.

"Hello? Trashmouth? Richieeee. Trashieee. Hello?" After a second of waving his hand in front of his face, he starts to panic.

"Crap! Hey, you in there? Shit. Are you having a seizure on me? Do you have any pens in here you can bite down on? Or are you-"

"I'm fine, Eds." Richie said suddenly.

"Then first of all, why _the hell_ would you put me through that, and second of all _why_ is your face so red?"

"Because I think I just realized I'm in love with you." Richie realizes what he's said, too late, _as always_.

"You...what?"

His face burns and his heart's in his throat. "Yeah...yeah. I-I think I love you, Eds."

Eddie's ears went bright pink.

"How do you know?" He whispered, as if speaking too loud would shatter the bubble that seemed to have formed around them.

"I just-" _Here's where I regret not having my jaw wired shut,_ "I saw it. All at once right now. When I grabbed your arm, and every time we've, we've held hands jumping down the quarry, or whenever you put bandaids on my knees and my arms, I get these," His throat went dry. His hands pushed his glasses up and then started pulling on hangnails. He wasn't aware when his thumb started bleeding. "These almost fireworks under my skin. And they send shivers down my back and heat up my face when you touch me back."

Eddie stayed silent. He didn't move a muscle.

"Or-Or when you tell me that your favorite color is yellow and I see you use the rest of your yellow bandaids on me a week later. And when your hair is just half damp, and it does that wave thing, and when your freckles tell the story of the world's prettiest boy and his thousands of concerns, or when you paint your nails, and you do everything so gently so as not to ruin it, or when you think you're dying in the 7/11 bathroom, afraid to use your inhaler because of the bacteria in the air in that bathroom. I'll be your air, Eds. If you let me, I'll make sure you can breathe."

That was a hell of a promise from Richie, considering he has forgotten how to breathe. Richie looks up.

One single tear slides down his cheek.

_I've broken him. I've ruined us. I need to learn to shut my damn mouth once in a while._

Eddie's hand slides up along his neck, his thumb tracing the shadow of his Adam's apple. He works his way up to his cheek, where he stays. Richie let himself enjoy the last little firecrackers he can get.

"Rich..."

His eyes almost refuse to look at Eddie's, staying down. But he wants to see him just one more time before they're broken. So he looks up and he thinks he could never break away.

"Yeah." His voice squeaks out halfway through the word, tears strangling him.

"If you're my air, then _get in my mouth already_."

"Wh-"

Eddie pulls him forward by the base of his neck, connecting the two boys.

At first, Richie couldn't believe it. Eddie was so- _so daring_.

But his lips were _so_ soft.

And he smelled _so sweet_.

So he pulled his hand up so his thumb could trace new patterns on the boy's cheek.

The fireworks boomed, Richie feeling the finale on his neck when Eddie moved down past his jaw. He lay back, Eddie's torso between his knees and their heart rates all over the place.

He felt so warm. He didn't know he had such sensitive nerves on his neck- _how did he not faint every time he wore a turtleneck?_ -but they were there and they were new, and so was Eddie.

_Eddie, Eddie, Eddie_. Richie's hands worked their way onto his hips, his thumbs and pointers sliding underneath his shirt.

_Eddie's probably giving me a hickey, isn't he? Can he-_

Richie laughed at the irony. Eddie, of course, grew immediately self conscious.

"What? Did I move too fast?"

Richie shook his head.

"Then what?" Eddie huffed, struggling to catch his breath.

"No, not at all. It's just...Can you breathe?"

  
  
  



	5. valentines!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cute gay valentines tingz  
> sorry this took so long i had Such a chaotic weekend but it's here now so

_ Would it be so bad? _ Richie thought,  _ Would it be so criminal to  _ really  _ ask him this year? _

He got off of his bed, no distance between him and the ground once he sat up. He had really shot up this year. The cold floor on the soles of his feet shot shivers down his spine. He looked at his (broken) alarm clock, and decided he had time. 

Tiptoeing, he grabbed the shoebox from the top of his closet and pulled it down. He gently set it down on his pillow. Yeah, gently, for once. His most prized possessions were in that box. He opened it up. 

To be exact, there were four cards, two stale-ass pieces of candy, and one tiny, ugly, stuffed bear, holding a stuffed primary red heart that said “I LUV U” in fuchsia, which was an absolute shame, because underneath such a garishly written message, it held a little voicebox, with a message made just for him by Eddie Kaspbrak. 

Every card had said some equivalent of ‘i hate you, thank you for being my friend, stop fucking calling me Eds’. Richie touched them all and traced over Eddie’s handwriting. 

The bear was the best part. It was pink and surprisingly stiff to the touch, and when you pressed on the heart, you were  _ blessed _ by Eddie’s voice saying, 

“Fuck this holiday. It’s so stupid. Fuck you too, Trashmouth. Here’s to year four!”. The recording ends moments after Richie’s favorite part, the giggle that made his heart go fast and his fingers shake. 

_ Would he hate me? _ Richie asked, listening to the giggle again. 

_ Would he push me away? _ He thought, slowly putting a kiss on the ugly bear’s forehead and holding it there. 

_ If I really, really asked him this year? _

“I don’t know, Bill, it just seems kind of weird! He hasn’t made any jokes about fucking my mom in  _ weeks _ , and tomorrow is Valentine’s and he hasn’t put anything in my locker yet!” Eddie paced back and forth in Bill’s living room, sunrise peeking from the curtains taunting his height. 

“Do you ex-expect him tuh-to?”

Eddie spun one-eighty to face the boy on the couch, his ears red and his cheeks worse off. 

“ _ Absolutely not. _ ”

“Th-then why are you so w-w-worried-d?” 

_ Easy for you to say, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce in your plaid fucking pajama bottoms. _

“What if he has some secret girlfriend he hasn’t told us about?”

“He’d definitely have to ask B-b-b-b- _ fuck,” _

“Beverly,” Eddie said, his arm crossed and one on his mouth, in a  _ go on _ motion. 

“For g-girl advice, and she wuh-would have told us b-by now.”

“I don’t know, what if he does, and my shit just seems weird?”

Bill twisted his head. “Y-you already bought him stuh-stuff?”

“Duh. This is the fifth year in a row we’ve been sarcastic Valentines. I didn’t expect him to just... _ not  _ ask.” 

“Wuh-Well, he isn’t ex-exactly obligated,

i-is he?”

“I guess not, but  _ still _ .”

“Why don’t you a-ask him?”

Eddie was  _ floored _ . 

“Because that would throw it all off! That would imply that I liked being his Sarcastic Valentine!”

“D-d-didn’t you?”

“ _ Not the point! _ The point is, if I ask, he’ll know I like him. If he asks, it would seem like I searched a while for his gifts because I got good ones this year, all ahead of time, Bill, and if he doesn’t ask, I’m removing February 14th from  _ everyone’s  _ calendars.”

“I c-can’t help you, Eh-eddie.”

He sighed. “I know.”

Richie walked to school the next day, his hands on his backpack straps instead of waving wildly in the air, his feet hitting the ground too hard, too fast. 

_ Why am I so nervous? _ He wiped his cold palms on his jeans.  _ I’ve asked him to be my Valentine four times. Each time he’s said yes. Wh- _

Richie got the breath knocked out of him by something small, hurdling into his chest. 

“Rich, are you okay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to crash into you like that.”

_ Eddie? _

“No, well, actually, to be honest, yeah, I did, we need to talk.”

Richie tried to do one of those comedic gulps, but his throat was dry and it just sent him into a coughing fit. 

Eddie paid no mind to it, surprisingly. 

“What about Valentine’s, this year, Richie?”

“Huh?” Richie  _ wheezed _ out. What a fucking flip of character. 

“Valentine’s. We’ve been Valentines every time since, like, eighth fucking grade. Why haven’t you asked me?”

He coughed again into his elbow,  _ fuck _ . 

“Why-“

“Did you get a new girlfriend? Are you going to replace m- _ us _ ?”

_ What the fuck is he talking about? _

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” 

And Richie only just now,  _ just now _ looked into his eyes. And God, if they weren’t every color of honey and brown sugar and whiskey and just-

_ indulgent.  _

They were wide, and fearful, and so beautiful. Fluttering like Goddamn butterflies with those gorgeous eyelashes, it honestly felt attacking. Richie grabbed Eddie’s biceps softly. 

“Do you really think you could be replaced?”

Eddie looked around. 

“Yeah, we’re replacing the walking room in the busiest hallway. Let’s go to the bathroom for a minute.” Eddie stood up first, offering Richie his hand, not dropping it until they were locked together in the handicap stall. 

Richie’s mind was moving so fast, he couldn’t find a thought. It was like looking for a license plate standing on the side of a freeway. Impossible. 

Eddie stood on the opposite side of Richie in the stall. He realized how fucking small it was. 

_ Is that a blessing or a curse? _ He found. 

“Yeah. Yeah, honestly, Rich, I do. I’m so replaceable. I’m some fucking hypochondriac with brown hair and brown eyes and you’re...Cool. You’re cool, Richie. Whether you believe it or not, you manage to make company with everyone. Everyone. It’s easy for me to believe that I’m just one of many.”

“One of many  _ what? _ ”

Eddie swallowed and looked him in the eyes.( _ honey whiskey brown sugar chocolate- _ ) 

“Valentines.”

“Eds, there’s only one of you.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.  _ His pretty heart-shaped lips.  _

They stood in silence. It wasn’t awkward, not much  _ could  _ be with them anymore, but it wasn’t fucking pleasent. It was a silence filled with too little words. 

The class bell rang. 

“I should go.” Eddie said first. 

“Okay.”

Richie watched him pick up his backpack and walk out, hanging out of the stall on one hand. 

“Actually, I have something for you, Tozier.”

“I di-“

“You weren’t supposed to. Well, I didn’t expect you to. Well-just- _ here. _ ” Eddie thrust something into his hands and walked out. 

Richie stumbled over his own feet, backing himself into the stall again. 

_ Why am I so fucking quiet? Isn’t this conversation all the motivation I need? _

He looked at the box. It was just a cardboard box, but it was wrapped in dusty wrapping paper with pink roses on it. 

He pulled back the wrapping paper as if he was going to save it for something, even though he probably couldn’t really think of any real use for it.

He sat down and set the lid by his feet.

The first thing he noticed was that the box was sectioned into three, with one really long one, like a shitty split-screen game. That one held photo booth pictures of the two, on glossy white strips of paper. He flipped over the one on top. There were four frames. The first two, Eddie looked  _ adorably _ filled with rage, and the second two were completely blurry and unintelligible. Richie remembered that day vividly, just because of how flustered Eddie had gotten.

_ “There is no way in hell I’m sitting on your lap, Tozier!” _

_ Richie pulled back the curtain.  _

_ “Given the fact that there is literally one foot squared of foot space, Eds,” Richie said, trying to gesture around him but smacking his hand on the wall. “Fuck, we have no other option.” _

_ Eddie crossed his arms and pouted, his ears nearly as red as his shorts. “Well, then, we won’t take the picture. We don’t really need it, you know. Today isn’t even super monumental.” _

_ “I already put in the quarters.” _

_ “Fuck you,” Eddie said quietly, trying to squeeze in next to Richie. _

_ “Do it yourself, coward.” Richie said, quieter and softer than usual, placing his hands on Eddie’s hips and pulling him up onto his lap. He thought he heard Eddie’s breath catch, but it was probably asthma. _

_ “Do you have any idea how many dust mites you’re probably inhaling right now, you dumbass?” _

_ “Why are you worried about me? You’re the one with asthma.” _

_ Eddie huffed out something Richie didn’t catch. _

_ Click! _

_ “Oh, fuck, I wasn’t ready!” _

_ Click! _

_ “You had to be for that one, Eds.” _

_ “Fuck y-” _

_ Snap! _

_ The photo booth fell between the weight of the two. _

_ Eddie, obviously, searched the two for breaks, concussions, etc immediately. _

_ Richie laughed until tears were streaming down his face, and when Eddie asked why, picking up his arms and bending his elbows slowly, he wasn’t sure he could tell him. _

Richie smiled at the memory. He set the paper down, on top of the lid. He couldn’t imagine giving Eds all of the germs on the bathroom floor, even if it was just some blurry fifteen-year-old version of him. He would freak the fuck out. 

He pulled out another picture, these ones were more square-shaped, but they were lined up to be as long as the photobooth ones. He picked them up, one with each hand, and flipped them around at the same time, like a magician flourishing his wrists.  _ Are these your cards? _ Magicians didn’t really have any sort of ‘Voice’ so when Richie impersonated them, he usually pretended to make something disappear by throwing it over his shoulder, or shoving it into his mouth, followed by a muffled “Augh-Dah!”. 

One of the pictures was of Richie asleep. He was laying on Eddie’s bed, curls taking up more room on the pillow than his head and blanket all tangled in his limbs. But Eddie was careful, and he was precise. He was just the perfect distance away as to infer what the rest of his body looked like, while still catching every tiny freckle on his nose and every bit of breath in his mouth. 

Richie pushed his glasses up his nose. He noticed they weren’t in the frame (a pun he made that nobody was there to hear)

_ I didn’t know that they were prominent at all during winter _ . During summer, yeah, there were a spare few inches that Richie  _ didn’t  _ show during summer (one time, he showed up to a pool party in nothing but a pair of speedos and one of Bev’s over-dresses,). He liked to think that he was ‘blessing’ everyone, but really, he just used it to make three times the amount of sex jokes as usual. Especially around Eddie. 

The second photo was something Richie would keep for many, many years. 

This photo, Eddie had taken of himself. His eyes crossed, his tongue sticking out, he shone gold for miles, his whisky eyes magnified behind a pair of stolen glasses.  _ Which is why they weren’t in the last picture.  _

Richie couldn’t stop staring. 

At how thick his eyelashes and eyebrows were, how  _ ridiculous  _ it was that he found that attractive. 

At how absolutely radiant this boy was. There was no other word. His cheeks were made of sunshine, his freckles of cocoa shavings. Richie wanted to kiss them like they were puzzle pieces only his mouth could put together. 

He felt his lips part. 

He felt his cheeks heat. 

He felt his eyes water. 

He felt  _ ashamed.  _

He set the photos down on the lid.

He looked at the next section. The first thing he noticed was a rock.

_ No way,  _ Richie thought, feeling the weighted thing in his hand.  _ He kept it? I honestly probably would have thrown it out of a window.  _

It was white and not quite clear, something Eddie told him was  _ courts _ or something. He remembered finding it at the quarry, pocketing it for later slingshot usage.

A few hours later, during the hottest part of the day, everyone sat at the edges and dipped their toes in the water. Richie pulled out the rock to aim at a bird with his slingshot, before both Stan and Eddie slapped his arm away.

_ “What the fuck are you doing?” they both said in sync. _

_ “That’s quartz! That kind of rock is said to have, like, healing energies or some shit. _

_ “Not to mention he was aiming at a fucking  _ bird _ , Eddie!” _

_ “Shit, sor-ry, guys!” Stan grabbed the slingshot and tossed it a few feet. _

_ “ _ Stan1 _ ” Richie whined, “That’s a brand-new wrist rocket!”  _

_ Stan shrugged. “That was a live bird, you piece of shit.” _

_ Eddie sat back down next to Richie, who put the rock back into his pocket. He kept trying to lean back and splash at Bev with his toes nonchalantly, but he saw how Eddie’s eyes kept retracting back to his lap. _

_ “Wow, Eds, eyes to yourself. I mean, I guess I could understand. You hear about the biggest dick in town, and ya gotta try it, right? Like mother, like son.” _

_ Richie had never seen someone’s face turn to disgust so quickly. He’d also never seen anybody’s face go so red so quickly. _

_ “Ew, what the fuck, Trashmouth? Beep, beep, beep!” Eddie said, punctuating each beep with a punch to his arm. _

_ “Ow, Eds, fuck, I’m just playing, you throw a mean right hook a-ohhhh.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “I see what it’s about now.” _

_ He didn’t know Eddie’s face had further phases of red. _

_ “What the fuck do you mean, Tozier.” _

_ “I get it.” _

_ “ _ What? _ ” Eddie scowled. _ _   
_ _ “It’s about the rock, isn’t it?” Eddie looked away. _

_ “Yeah, obviously it’s about the rock. Jesus Christ, you think my way of flirting with you is by staring at your dick? You disgust me.” _

_ Richie reached into his pocket and dropped it into the boy’s lap.  _

_ “It’s yours, then.” _

_ “Really?” Eddie looked up at him with all the stars in his eyes. _

_ “Yeah,” Richie said, staring into every shade of chocolate they had to offer, “I mean, Stan would crucify me if I aimed at another bird, wouldn’tcha Stan?” _

_ “I’m always on the verge of crucifying you, Trashmouth.”  _

Richie set it down next to the pictures.

The last thing in the box was one of those plastic spheres that gumball machines keep prizes in. He popped it open. Inside, there was a plastic golden ring, and a sticky note. The sticky note read ‘ _ To Trashmouth. Give it back if it doesn’t fit, because I don’t want you to lose it if it’s too big, and I don’t want it to cut off your circulation if it’s too small.’ _ . The handwriting was clearly Eddie’s, due to the neatness, but it was just a bit too big, leading Richie to believe it was from when they were kids. 

If Richie wasn’t crying before, he certainly was now. He tried setting everything back into the box just as Eddie had it, but he wasn’t that immaculate. He took deep, heaving breaths, every exhale a shudder followed by streams of tears.

_ Does he love me, too? _

_ Can I ask him? _

_ What would he say? _

_ What would _ I  _ say? _

Richie put the lid back onto the box and put it in his bag. 

He wiped his eyes and unlocked the stall, unsure of everything except for the fact that he had to find Eddie.

He wandered through the halls until they started to flood with kids. He got pushed to the wall, and he wasn’t sure what he was doing.

“Eddie…” He let out involuntarily, seeing the pretty boy walk across the hall, with his chin up but his brows furrowed in pain.

“Eddie!” He said again, catching the boy’s attention.

And there they were. Two stagnant pieces in a Niagra Falls of kids. Eddie looked around and waved him to a little cave in. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry, I-” But Eddie moved too quickly. Grabbing his cheeks, he pulled him in. Standing on his tiptoes, his lips were placed so that his top was between Richie’s. Richie paused before he realized what was going on, his hands reacting quicker than his brain, grabbing Eddie’s collar like his life depended on it. Eddie tilted his head to deepen the kiss, before Richie shoved him off. 

“ _ Woah _ , Eds, I-”

“No, Rich, I’m sorry,”

“No, Eddie, it’s fine,  _ really _ ,” Richie said, ensuring him before he could ask, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you sooner.”

“Sooner? You still haven’t technically asked me.” Eddie mused.

“Okay, first of all,  _ fuck you,” _ He said, pressing his index finger right between his collarbones as he giggled, “And second of all, will you be my Valentine, then?”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m gonna pass, Trashmouth.”

Richie scooped in, kissing him on the cheek and neck in sloppy signs of love.

“Gross, Rich, we’re in the middle of a hallway!” But Eddie didn’t really mind.


	6. inhaler pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a meet cute where eddie leaves his inhaler behind at a restaurant. richie happens to find it and he puts up an ad on craigslist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a multi (probably just two) part oneshot because i felt like updating and i hadn’t finished it yet so yeah!  
> thanks for all the comments, bookmarks, kudos, and reads!! they mean a lot to me because i love sharing my stuff with you guys and being able to interact w yall :)

_ Who the fuck is Edward Kaspbrak?  _ Richie thought, picking up the discarded inhaler off of the bathroom sink and reading the label,  _ And how do you forget a portable breathing machine? _

Richie Tozier had no clue who Edward could be, but just based off of the name alone, he assumed that he was some uptight old man, who took, like, thirty different kinds of vitamins every morning and wore fanny packs. Those old guys always smelled like cheap plastic and that one nostalgic hand soap with the clownfish on it. 

Kaspbrak didn’t give him any more clues, either.  _ What kind of a name is that? Danish? Indian? Las Vegas...ian? Las...Vegan? _

He also didn’t know what to  _ do _ with the old man’s inhaler. Part of him said the old man would yell at him for having it once he came back for it, part of him laughed as he thought he probably croaked on the way out, another part thought,  _ wow, that really wasn’t funny,  _ and the last part said  _ Well, the restaurant closes in half an hour, and the internet doesn’t just shut off. _

He let that side win. 

Pocketing the inhaler, he walked out of the bathroom and the restaurant, trying not to look suspicious. He was 20, and he looked both aggressively straight and like he would slam the next mildy age appropriate boy he saw up against the alley wall. Which is to say, he was wearing his patterned button up with ripped jeans again. 

_ Beep, Beep! _

Richie jumped at the noise, his fist tightening around the plastic in his pocket. 

“Shit, Bev!” He went around the banged-up Jeep and hopped into the passenger’s side. 

He neglected his seatbelt, clutching his three-odd layers of shirts with a fist, tossing his head back and moaning dramatically. 

“You could have killed me!” He says in his old man Voice.  _ I could call him Edward. After the old guy.  _ “You know how fragile my heart is nowadays,” He said, using his other hand to point a shaky finger at the driver. 

“Need me to honk the horn again?”

“Huh?” Richie snapped out of it. 

“ _ Beep, Beep _ !” She clarified, reversing so quickly out of the parking lot, you would have thought she had no regard for consequences. 

Which. Beverly Marsh didn’t, unless she controlled them to her favor. Proof of that could be seen in the dents in the fender and the crushed up Marlboro boxes Richie found scattered everywhere. 

“What took you so long, Trashmouth?” Bev asked, clearly speeding. 

“I found some old dude’s inhaler on the sink.”

“Some old dude? You watched him leave his inhaler?” She slows down as they hit a red light (Richie wouldn’t be surprised if that wasn’t the only thing they hit). 

“No. Just found it.”

“Then how do you know he’s old?” She pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it, offering one to the passenger. 

Richie shrugged. “Edward Kraspbak or something was the name on the inhaler, written in labelmaker. Only old white guys, Bev.” 

She giggled so hard she snorted, and smoke came out of her nose. “I bet he has dividers in his sock drawer.”

“I bet he’s got a Spotify playlist dedicated to when he’s doing taxes,” Richie challenges right back. “And he keeps the ads.”

“Bold of you to assume he knows what Spotify is,” Bev’s clearwater eyes growing teary and reflecting the traffic lights. It was easy to make her laugh, and it was one of Richie’s favorite things to do. 

“I bet he doesn’t even drink coffee, just English breakfast tea.” Richie didn’t think it was  _ that  _ funny. But he was making Bev laugh. She probably had too much to drink (she loved reminding him that she was almost a full year older). 

“I bet he thinks that flavor is too intense so he has to dull it down with creamer,” 

“What a Boomer,” Richie finished as Bev realized it was a green light. 

“Why am I not driving? You’re drunk.” he points out after a few minutes of comfortable silence. 

“Because gays can’t drive, Richie.”

“No, but they sure are great at riding,” he said, throwing a wink in her direction. 

“You would know, you freaking bottom.”

“Are you sure you know what that means?”

“All I know is that queer people get offended when you say that,” She said, shrugging. 

Richie chuckled and rolled down his window, letting his hand graze the wind. Silently, Bev’s hand makes its way onto the radio’s knob. Richie doesn’t notice. She turns it to 92.1, but it doesn’t make a sound. 

“Three...Two...One.” She whispered under her breath, and on one, she cranked the volume knob all the way up to 100%. 

“SHIT!” Richie screamed, jumping so high he was in danger of falling out of the car. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny! I could have...I could have fallen out the window! I could have-is this  _ Don’t Fear The Reaper _ ?”

Bev cackles, tears rolling down her cheeks, smoke coming out of her nose and her mouth.

“Gotcha, Trashmouth!”

“Bev, you piece of shit, oh my God, my heart is still pounding harder than I was on your mom last night.”

She honked the horn twice (much to the confusion of nearby drivers). Richie turned the dial down to about 60%. 

“Yeah, I think it is.”

“What?”

“Blue Öyster Cult.”

“Oh,” Richie says, just calming down. “It’s one of my favorite songs. Now give me a  _ fucking _ cigarette.”

She points towards her purse, motioning for him to get it himself. He digs through, just looking for one cigarette and repeatedly finding empty cartons, along with some matches. 

_ She needs to clean her fucking purse once in a while. _

He eventually found one, so he struck a match on the bottom of his shoe and lit the cigarette, tossing the match out the window. 

Inhaling a lungful of smoke, he ironically felt like he could breathe for the first time that night. He kicked his converse on the dash (Bev smacked his shin in response, but he didn’t care.) and pulled out his phone, typing ‘ _ craigs list??? _ ’ into the search bar on top of the screen. Richie put in all the information he had, and took a picture of himself sticking out his tongue and winking, the inhaler  _ barely  _ making it into the frame. This was Richie Tozier, after all, and he had to be the center of attention. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Listing the inhaler on craigslist so somebody can take it off of my fucking hands.”

“Good luck. Dude’s probably like ninety.”

He snorts. 

“Thanks, Bev.” He said, posting the ad. 

  
  


“Oh,  _ Shit _ !” Eddie realizes, halfway home. “We left my inhaler in the bathroom!”

Stan shook his head. 

“No.  _ You _ left it behind.  _ We _ have to turn back.”

Eddie was already hyperventilating. “Shit, shit, shit! I can’t breathe! Jesus, if I fucking die right now Stan, all of my wordly belongings go to-“

“Me?”

“Mike.”

“Rude!” Stan pulled back into the parking smoother and quicker than Eddie would have expecte).

“Thanks,” Eddie choked out, basically falling out of the car. 

He ran to the restaurant’s front, and knocked (banged) on the glass door until an employee opened it. 

“We’re closed. You need to go home.”

“I-inhaler-bathroom” He managed between gasps. The employee looked him up and down and stood there for a moment, before opening the door grumbling about their measly pay. 

Eddie ran to the back where the bathroom was, and basically crashed into the sink.

_ It’s not there.  _

Tears filled his eyes from the lack of oxygen. 

_ Maybe it’s on the floor? Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.  _

It wasn’t there either. 

_ Stop fucking panicking, Eddie, it’s okay. It’s fine. Sit it out. You’re okay.  _

His ringtone belted out unexpectedly, causing Eddie to take another huge gasp (he isn’t sure whether it helped or not). He slid the phone unlocked, and answered it. 

“Hey, I was looking for a new sofa for us, then I saw your inhaler for free. Some wacko has it, but he at least looks our age. Come back to the car, he posted his address, we’ll go get it.”

Eddie tried breathing out a thanks, but-

“I know. I’m the best. Don’t waste your breath.” 

Stan really was. They both knew he couldn’t get a word out. 

Eddie dug a ten dollar bill out of his pocket as he left the bathroom, shoving it into the employee’s chest as he left, giving a thanks another try for the second time in the past two minutes. It didn’t work out that time, either. 

He hopped into Stan’s sedan (whom Bill affectionately called The Sedanly) and immediately buckled up tight. 

“Should you be buckling up? Because it’ll just close up your lungs, right, dumbass?” 

Eddie shook his head, and wiped the tears from his bottom lashes, still barely able to breathe. 

“Crashing would be worse.” He said, but when he said worse, it wasn’t much of a word, and much more of an implied wheeze. 

The Sedanly zoomed off just a few streets away until Stan decided they were at their destination. 

“Ha-ha! I beat Google! Google told me to take a left on Rowelle, but I went straight and we saved, like, ten minutes.”

“Siri,” Eddie corrected. He could kind of breathe again, but his throat felt dry, the same way your nostrils do when you’re up too late at night sometimes, where you know there’s some kind of moistness, but the air around you is so dry and there’s nothing you can change about it. “Which one?”

Stan pointed to the second floor. 

“Room two-oh-eight.”

“Thanks, Stan.” He said,  _ finally _ being able to say it. 

“Go get your fucking vape, douchebag.” 

Eddie saw past the swears. He knew Stan only swore so much out of spite for his parents, because he still  _ cared _ . He wanted Eddie to have his inhaler and be safe, he wants to help Bill get over his stutter, he still watches birds. Sometimes he’d see Stan looking at bluejays, floating in the breeze, and he would swear Stan was up there with them, flying and weightless. 

Eddie hopped out of the car (literally hopping. He didn’t have the same One-Huge-Growth-Spurt the rest of the Derry boys got. He remained about 5’6”, and that’s with his high-tops on.) and looked back at Stan nervously. He waved him on. 

Eddie took a shaky breath and started up the outside stairs. What he at first had assumed was the lobby-front-door-area-thing was actually just an apartment. He felt like a teenager, going up a fire escape at night. He felt like he was breaking some rule, when really, all he wanted was his damn inhaler. He got to the second story, and wasn’t sure if what he was knocking on was a large window or a small door, but there was a neon pink sticky note that said  _ 208 _ on it, then a neon yellow one in chicken scratch that read  _ The Toziers’ _ , finally being followed with another pink one in purple pen (almost unreadable in this lighting) that said  _ that is, until The Incident _ . 

Eddie couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not, but either way, it set his nerves on high alert. Best case scenario, he’s crawling into someone’s fucking window at like ten pm, and that someone thinks that ‘incidents’ are funny. Worst case, he’s the next incident, a statistic in the making. 

He knocked anyway. 

“Bev, you get it, I’ve got a massive hangover.” A muffled man’s voice said. 

“Trashmouth. First, you aren’t old enough to drink. Second, it hasn’t been long enough for a hangover to actually happen yet. Third, I just got out of the motherfucking shower. I’m on the other side of the apartment in a fucking towel. You answer it.” Eddie couldn’t see inside. He heard stomping (in a way, it sounded unintentional. If that made any sense.), and then the door opened. 

“Who tha fuck’re you?”

Eddie cleared his throat, hoping that some God will just...randomly give him strength, because he hasn’t been able to breathe for the last half hour, and this  _ insanely _ cute boy was not helping the case. He was tall (Eddie’s type.), he had curly hair (Eddie’s. Type.), cheekbones, a jawline and the hottest motherfucking Adam’s Apple Eddie had ever seen ( _ Eddie’s! Type! _ ). 

“Do you have my inhaler?”

Richie tossed the car keys that Bev had somehow maneuvered into his hands onto the floor by the heater vent. That was tomorrow's problem. 

“I need to take a shower, I call dibs on going first!” She said, immediately after going inside. 

Richie just shrugged. “Okay?”

She practically  _ skipped _ into the bathroom. He didn’t understand how she always had  _ So Much Energy _ . 

He plopped down on their sofa, not much in his head until he got a text from a random number. 

_ Hello. I’m Stanley. You don’t know me but for some reason you have my friend’s inhaler and he can’t breathe, so we’ll be on our way. Google maps gives us 25 minutes.  _

  1. _208\. just knock._



_ Alrighty.  _

Richie slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

_ Stanley. He sounds old, too. He types old. I hope those motherfuckers have trouble getting up our stairs _ . 

He snickers at the thought, leaning over to untie his combat boots. 

“Hey, Bev?”

“Yeah!” Her voice muffled through water, steam, and walls. 

“Old guys coming over in less than half an hour. Be fully prepared for either a robbery or a porn situation. Either way, we’re gonna need your handcuffs.”

“Jesus, Richie. Beep, beep!”

_ I’ve been beeped a lot tonight. _

He set his boots aside and pulled off his hawaiian shirt, keeping it in the crook of his arm until he brought it into his room. He almost dropped it when he heard the knocking. 

_ I thought he said twenty five, not like three minutes.  _

“Bev, you get it, I’ve got a massive hangover.” He said, purely because he knew The Boomers could hear him, and it would totally piss them off. 

“Trashmouth. First, you aren’t old enough to drink. Second, it hasn’t been long enough for a hangover to actually happen yet. Third, I just got out of the motherfucking shower. I’m on the other side of the apartment in a fucking towel. You answer it.”

Richie sighed and stood up, not sure he felt up to dealing with the consequences of his joke anymore (was Bev rubbing off on him?). He slid open the door, and dropped his fucking button-up. 

The boy in his doorway-yes,  _ boy _ \- was short, almost the size of the doordow frame (what he and Bev christened the opening upon moving in), and just  _ so _ pretty. 

Richie had heard people describe boys as pretty before, but he didn’t get it until now. Because looking at this boy made of magic, that’s all he could think. From the imperfect swoosh in his hair, to the thick lashes batting onto the cheeks swirled with tan raindrops, this boy was a dictionary definition of pretty. Even the way he held himself was cute, and when he cleared his throat, Richie thought he could die right then and there. 

“Who tha fuck’re you?” He slapped himself internally. He couldn’t decide on whether to do a Voice or not, and somehow he landed on some kind of half-Irish bullshit. 

“Do you have my inhaler?”  _ How was his voice beautiful too? _

“You’re Edward Kaspbrak?” The boy- God bless him-  _ shivered _ . 

“Eddie. The only person who calls me Edward is my mom.”

“You don’t really look like an Edward,” Richie said, ignoring the name preference, “Or an Eddie. Maybe an Eds, but that’s still on the edge of unacceptable.”

“ _ Do not _ call me Eds. And what does that even mean? What does ‘an Eddie‘ look like?” 

“Like a Boomer,” He said frankly, “Do you want inside?” 

Eddie peered around his shoulder- _ for what? A body? _ -and shook his head, his cheeks flushing pink and his ears going  _ red _ . He immediately stood back in his place. 

“Can I just have-ave my inhaler?” Richie could hear the rawness in his throat and felt sympathy for the poor boy. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. It’s in my fucking...Where did I put it? Bev! Have you seen the inhaler?” She peeked around the corner, clearly in a towel, with nothing else on.  _ Is that why Eddie blushed? God, his blush. _

“No, but do you still need the handcuffs?” She teased. 

Richie’s whole face went so red he was sure he was glowing in the dark.  _ Serves me right, I guess. Since when was I so poetic? _

He slapped his thighs, and Eddie jumped, his  _ pretty _ brown stare turning to Richie Motherfucking Tozier’s  _ thighs _ . 

“Oh! Here it is, Eds. In my pocket, exactly where I left it. Sorry.” He fumbled the gray plastic over to the boy, who took it with both hands. 

_ Ballsy. Much more ballsy than you ever are.  _ Eddie told the voice to shut up. 

He took the inhaler with both hands intentionally. So one hand could actually take it, and the other could hold on to the Hawaiian Shirt Dropping Catastrophe for support. And he did. 

He shook the inhaler and let the chemicals find their way down his closed, raw lungs, only just now being able to breathe. He squeezed Glasses’s hand. 

_ His nails are green. He paints his nails. That is fucking adorable.  _

What else was Richie supposed to think? The boy was gasping like- 

_ Nope, not finishing that one.  _ He just stood there awkwardly next to Eddie. Who looked, by the way, like he was on a vertical deathbed. Which made Richie guilty for wanting it to continue so he could hold his hand. 

“Um...do you want some water or something?”

Eddie held up a finger with the rest of his hand curled around his inhaler, signaling for another minute. Then,  _ God _ , then, he looked up at Richie with honey in his eyes and nodded. 

_ What should I do? I don’t want to let go, I  _ can’t _ after he looked at me like that, but I can’t make it obvious I can’t let go.  _

Richie set his hand down softly, like putting a butterfly down in the grass. 

“I’ll be right back.”

Richie went to their kitchen, and grabbed a glass, but he was interrupted mid-reach. 

“Actually, do you have bottled? I’m allergic to most dish soaps.”

_ What? _

“Yeah, I think so, let me check.” Richie opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle. He caught himself about to toss it, like he always does to Bev, but at this point, the kid’d probably get hit in the eye, and that wouldn’t make for a great first impression. He walked over to Eddie and handed him the water bottle. 

“Thanks.” He said, and drank what  _ must  _ have been, like, half the bottle.  _ Okay, then. Just continue doing such attractive things right in front of me, Eds. You totally aren’t destroying me right now.  _

“STILL NEED THE HANDCUFFS?” Bev shouted from the other room.

_ Oh, Jesus Christ, Bev. _

Richie felt his whole face go hot. 

“Shut the fuck up, Bev.” He couldn’t think of anything clever to say. 

_ Handcuffs?  _

“I should go.”

“Oh, right, okay, um,” He watched Richie shuffle his mismatched socks around, his hands clearly looking for something to do. 

“Are you going to make a habit of this?”

“Leaving my inhaler behind?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably not. Why?”

“So I could call you again. The next time you leave your inhaler somewhere I happen to be.”

‘I can’t imagine that could happen again,” Eddie said, surrendering his phone up anyways.

“I can. If fate is on my side, the next time you’ll lose your inhaler, you’ll have left it behind on my nightstand,” Richie said, handing back his phone with a wink. 

_ Jesus Christ Eddie, what have you gotten yourself into? _

“That’s when we beep him.” Said the red-headed girl, rounding the corner,  _ thank fuck,  _ this time in pajamas.

“Beep him?”

“Bev…” Richie groaned.

“Yeah. Like just a little ‘beep, beep, Richie’. It tells him that the joke is over.”

“It’s basically a ‘shut the fuck up’.” He simplified.

“Beep, Beep, inhaler thief.” Eddie said, smirking as he walked out. 

Eddie hopped down all the stairs to find the Sedanley in the exact same place it had been. 

“Eds, I sent you some links to Craigslist for some couches, they’re all free, we just gotta pick ‘em up. Tell me what you think when you get the chance. How did it go? Were you killed?”

Eddie scoffed, buckling his seatbelt. “Clearly not, dumbass. But I managed to get a boy’s number.”

“What, the crackhead from the photo?” 

Eddie nodded.

“I immediately do  _ not  _ give my blessing.”

“We aren’t getting  _ married _ ! He gave me his fucking number! I don’t even have to text him!” 

“Oh, yeah, but you don’t have a dad so he’s going to have to ask  _ me  _ for  _ my  _ blessing and there is no way in Hell that’s happening.”

“Do you even believe in Hell?”

“You really know nothing about being Jewish, huh, Eddie?”

“Um… Candles. You do candles around Christmas.”

“ _ Wow _ . It’s called a  _ menorah _ , and I light it around  _ Hanukkah _ .”

“Oh.”

“How do you not know this? We’ve lived together for a year. Remember? We moved out at 18, and somewhere in there we turned-“

“Yes, thank you Stanley, while I don’t read the Quran, I know how old I am.”

“You know the Quran is Islamic, right?  _ Right? _ ”

Eddie scoffed. “Shut up.”

Stanley laughed them both into a comfortable silence. Eddie stared out the window. 

“Would it be weird if I texted him?”

“No, but if you do have an actual conversation, I’ll have to remind him that I know his phone number and where he lives.”

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna fucking obliterate him if he hurts you too, Eddie.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, not knowing Stan really cared (he thought he was just sort of apathetic about most things). “Thanks.”

“Of course.”


	7. update

hi guys!

im not gonna make a part two to the last one, like, what would it even be?

anyway

next update my friend @jjjjuicy gave me the idea

its camping, kissing, and eddie FINALLY being right about something for once


	8. mono

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mono lmao
> 
> my friend @jjjjuicy gave me the idea but she doesn’t have co-creators turned on but anyway go check out her stuff

Richie dug the toe of his converse into the dirt, lifting up a rock. He tried to kick it up like a Hacky-Sak, but it hit Eddie in the nose. 

“Ow!” He said, rubbing his nose, “What the hell, Richie?”

“What was that?” Bev asked from across the campfire. Her and Ben’s knees kept bumping into each other. 

_They must think their flirting is slick, huh?_

“A rock, I found one on the ground when you were doing your boring rant about, like, color schemes on shirts or whatever-“

“ _Hey!_ ”

“-And I wanted to try to like kick it around, like a Hacky-Sak, but- _Ooh, Eds_ , Did it hit you in the nostril? Maybe it pierced your nose, and you could get a stud in it. Or maybe a ring. I mean, you’re old enough now to buy one. That would be _hot_ , Eds, but probably not as hot as the piercing your mom has _right on her-“_

“Beep-beep-beep-beep!” Ben said, stopping Richie mid sentence, where he _comically_ had one hand on the waistband of his jeans and another in the air in a diving motion. 

“You’re a jerk, Rich. I would punch you, but I don’t want to push you over and make you fall into the stupid fire.” Richie could swear he saw Eddie’s ears get red, the firelight not helping his case. 

_Oh. Maybe my flirting isn’t very slick, either._

“Nah, Eds, you’re too little! You’re like a ‘lil teddy bear! And I’m like-“

“A g-g-giant butthole.” Bill interrupted. 

Eddie’s head snapped to look at him. “How are those two things connected?”

Richie caught Eddie’s glance, and said what he knew he wanted him to say. 

“Well, I dunno ‘bou’ you, Billy Boy,” Richie said, putting on his cowboy Voice and hooking his thumbs through his belt loops, “But typic’lly, when yeh shove things up yer backside,”

“Gross, Richie!” Mike said, covering his eyes as though that would make him stop.

“It’s not a teddy bear. Those are fer cuddlin’. You might be interested to know about a word called-“

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Bill said, his yelling clearing his stutter. 

Richie sat back down and looked at Eddie. 

“Too far, Trashmouth.” Eddie’s mouth said. But his eyes darted to the tent they shared, and looked at him so very softly, and his strawberry-red, freckle-seeded cheeks made something stir in the back of his throat. 

_Oh._

Richie looked at his watch. 

“It’s seven-thirty-two!” Richie yelped, throwing his hand across his forehead. “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” He said in an incredibly unpracticed White Hare Voice. 

“For wuh-wuh-what?” Bill asked.

“We’ve got all the time in the world.” Stan pointed out. 

“Yeah! Stay up with us!” Bev said, pumping her fist into the air. 

“Well, Eds here has gotta get his eight hours if we ever expect that poor snoz of his to heal!” Richie said, capitalizing the ‘Eds’ with a tussle of the boy’s hair. 

Eddie swatted his hand away. “Oh, shut up!”

”It’s true!” Richie said dramatically, “You always lecture me about getting eight hours!”

“Yeah, on the school nights when you call me, or climb up my window!”

The fire crackled. 

“...What the _hell?_ ” Stan said, furrowing his brow in a way that made Richie feel see-through. 

“Don’t worry, I only ever climb up to pass through the room so Sonia can get more of Ten-Inch Toz-“

“Jesus Christ, I take it back, _please_ go to sleep. Then you’ll be quiet.” Bev said, rolling her fire-lit eyes. 

“Actually, the idiot talks in his sleep, too.” Eddie said, pointing his thumb at Richie. 

“I do?”

“Yeah. Usually it’s just nonsense. One night, I heard you say in your advertiser’s Voice ‘ _Toothpaste!_ ’, and that was it. You also snore, drool, and walk.” Eddie counted on his fingers. 

“Do you _watch me sleep_ , Eds?”

“What? No,” He said, shifting in his seat, “You’re just so damn loud that you wake me up all the time.”

“Oh, do you wanna trade tents, then?” Ben offered. “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“No.” The boys both said, at the same time and much too quickly. 

“Anyway.” Eddie tried. “Eight hours, he’s right, you know. The Circadian Rhythm and...all that.” He said, shaking his wrist as he stood up and walked away. Everyone looked at the boys, dumbfounded. 

“What?” Richie said, stepping over the side of the fire. 

“E-e-e-Eddie just said y-you were ri-right.” 

They looked at each other. _What_ now _?_

“You know I hate it when you stutter my name, Bill.” Eddie said with a tone of finality, stepping into the tent. Richie cleared his throat. 

“Uh...Goodnight, guys,” He said, nothing funny coming to mind. 

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie whispered as Richie zipped up the tent. “Take your shoes off!”

“Which part?” Richie asked, tugging on the laces of his shoes. 

“All of it! You aren’t smooth at all, Rich!”

“Oh SpaghEds,” Richie said, pulling them off, “I-“

“No!” Eddie swatted his hand away. “What if they found out about us?” He looked at Richie. And the elbows, you know, _his elbows_ , the ones he had _all of his weight leaning on,_ absolutely betrayed him, causing him to fall directly on top of the boy with the world’s most beautiful brown eyes. 

“What the _HELL,_ Richie?”

“Sorry, sorry, Spaghetti, I didn’t mean to, it was just your cute big eyes and your red, rosy cheeks, and…” Richie trailed off as his eyes trailed down to Eddie’s lips. 

“Shut up,” Eddie said, grabbing his jaw with one hand and grabbing the collar of his shirt and leaning in. 

It was magical. Just like every time they kissed. Eddie was _there_ , underneath him, _there,_ holding his neck, _there_ , wrapping his ankles around Richie’s. Richie could never believe it. That there could be something so amazing in the world that held It for so long. He couldn’t believe the way his eyelashes fluttered- seriously, _fluttered,_ when he kissed him with an open mouth on his jawline. The way his back arched and his legs pulled him closer, there was no _way_ that it could be real. 

But Richie’s favorite part, the only thing he believed in ( _screw_ being a Catholic) was when Eddie looked up at him with his sugary doe eyes, both his hands pulling on his shirt. 

“Do you want me to…” His voice was hoarse. Eddie flushed all the way down to his (now purple) collarbones. 

“Y-yeah.”

Richie pulled off of him and took off his shirt, tossing it behind them like some kind of porn star, or something. He leaned back down over Eddie, who- _God bless him_ \- immediately wrapped his legs around him and put his biceps on his shoulders. He used one of his hands to card through his hair, and Richie could swear that it never had felt that good before.

While it was everything, it _wasn’t enough._

“Your turn,” Richie decided, pulling away and out of breath.

“I’m not getting on top.” 

“No, like your fucking shirt, dude. I couldn’t ask you to top, there’s no way you could _possibly_ dick me down just like I’m about to do to you. I mean, I believe it’s more of a matter of practice, and I have had _many_ years training in the art of fucking the Kaspb-”

“Shut the _fuck_ up!” Eddie said, regardless of the fact that the two had hardly made it past taking off their shirts. Last time they tried, they gave the pizza delivery boy quite a scare. The boys got off with some awful slurs, but he forgot to take their money, so the pizza was free. 

Richie laughed as he backed off to give Eddie his space to change. 

When he finished changing, the two sat there for a minute, staring. Not necessarily in a _hungry_ way, but more in a ‘ _now that there’s suddenly all this space between us I don’t know how to erase it again’._

Richie grinned. 

“Uh o- _oof!_ ” Eddie yelped as Richie basically tackled him. “How was that any more effective than just a kiss?”

“Can you prove the oppositional side?”

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, ‘Chee,”

He smiled into Eddie’s lips at the nickname. 

“I like that one,” He decided between short-lived kisses. 

“Then I guess I’m never using it again,” Eddie said, struggling to shrug under the confines that were Richie’s arms and the weight on top of them. 

“What? Rude!” Richie tried to multitask- kissing Eddie ( _with tongue)_ and talking. Eddie was surprised at first at how well he’d been managing, then he realized that boy has spoken through hell and back, and he stopped being surprised. 

“I mean you,” Eddie was much less successful. “nev-“ 

“Never-“

“Do-for- _Shit,_ Rich!” 

He backed off at once. Eddie exhaled. “You never call me nicknames I like!”

“Sure I do,” Richie said, scooping underneath his jawline with his mouth already open. “Eds, Eddie Spaghetti,” His eyelids fluttered-the reaction equally due to the nicknames (not that he would ever admit that, not even on his deathbed) and due to how fucking cosmic it felt having Richie’s lips parted on the most sensitive part of his neck, _especially_ when he ran his tongue over it. God, it sent shivers down his back. 

Richie held Eddie, one hand gripped in his hair and the other on the opposite side of his neck. He shifted his legs so his knee was between Eddie’s thighs, earning him a ‘ _Rich’_ that was almost disguised as an exhale. Eddie was _awful_ at breathing while they were kissing, which Richie found pretty fucking funny, since he hasn’t had asthma since they were sixteen. 

“You know I hate those,” He blatantly lied, his voice coming off like an angel’s sigh. 

“Mhm,” Richie said, letting him win but not really. 

Eddie tried rolling his eyes in annoyance, but Richie found a sweet spot, and his eyes just… stayed up there. His chest heaved and his hips jumped upwards. 

“ _Fuck,_ ”

“Do it yourself, coward,”

Eddie let out a breathy laugh. “We should stop. Our friends are, like, twenty feet away,”

Richie looked him in the eyes and grinned. “That’s part of the thrill, Eds!”

He scoffed. “Shut up,” He said, rolling Richie off of him. 

“You’re no fun, babe,”

“Yeah, maybe not ten feet away from Stan with nothing but a plastic sheet between us,” Eddie sat up, reaching for his shirt. Richie went to go get his and ended up kissing Eddie on the backside of his neck.

“Rich…” His back straightened as soon as he made contact, and _that_ is how he knew he didn’t _really_ want to stop. 

“M _hm_?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie leaned back into Richie. “I don’t think I have anything to cover my neck,”

“We’ll worry about it tomorrow, Eds,” Richie said, laying down and pulling the boy onto his chest. He immediately poured himself all over the taller boy, reaching up to toy with a couple of curls. 

“They’re gonna find out,” Eddie whined with real emotion and real fear in his voice. 

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Even if they did, do you doubt for a single minute that any of them would turn their back on us? That Bev would let them?”

“I guess not.”

They sat still for a moment before Richie couldn’t help himself anymore. 

“You’re almost as good at making out as your m-“

“Beep, beep,” Eddie yawned his goodnight. 

……………. 

“Mmph.”

“Up! It’s, like, ten!” Bev said, nudging Richie in the head with the toe of her boot. “Oh my god, are you wearing a shirt?”

“It’s a tube top,” Richie tried to crack, but his voice died out halfway through, and he ended up in a coughing fit. Which _immediately_ woke Eddie up, jumping almost all the way across the tent. 

“Holy shit, Eddie, what happened to your neck?” Bev gasped, “Did you two, like…?”

They stared at each other. Richie asked permission and Eddie seemed to be on the verge of tears. 

“What?” Richie asked, ever the hero. 

Bev looked down between the two boys and walked out. 

“Rich! She knows, she’s going to tell them all, _she knows-_ “

“Hey,” He said, gathering the boy in his arms, “It’s okay, it’s okay. Breathe, Eds. She doesn’t know anythi-“ He coughed,

“She-“

“Do you have a fever?”

“What?” Eddie’s mouth pressed against his forehead and his cheeks. Not to kiss; to gauge his temperature. 

“Rich, I think we’re sick. Where’s my fanny pack?” He said, hyperventilating. 

“You left it out here!” Ben’s sleepy voice called from outside. “Probably because you were in such a rush to leave us, for some reason, last night.”

Eddie locked eyes with Richie. 

“Ah, foick,” 


	9. au that i did not come up w

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so basically i used a prompt that someone sent to me (kinda)  
> "au where eddie is bev’s younger brother and is really shy around her best friend richie, a closeted trans man who is only out to bev. richie is nervous to flirt with eddie because eddie is gay and he isn’t out to eddie yet and isn’t sure eddie would want to date a trans guy, so he just sticks to playful teasing"  
> so that is kind of what i did?  
> i honestly just used this as a warm up for my bigger writing  
> tbh it doesnt feel like the best or the most in character but i might as well post it

“God, I wish Street Fighter wasn’t just an arcade game. The Atari is kind of fucking lame, dude.”

Eddie turned around to gawk at Richie. 

“Oh, you  _ asshole _ , you know that  _ Adventure _ is my favorite game!” 

And he got flustered over it so quickly! The way his eyebrows cinched and his cheeks got all red made Richie’s ears go hot. 

“I honestly don’t get how. You’re a dot in rooms of different colors. Whoop-de-fucking-do.”

Eddie turned fully, an awkward motion on the small basement couch ending in his legs doubling over Richie’s. 

“The significance of the game is colossal in the matter of the developer’s defiance! It’s much more than that, Rach!”

He almost flinched. 

Which was strange, considering that he was  _ used _ to being deadnamed. It happened every single day. The only person who  _ didn’t  _ deadname him constantly was Bev. Which made sense- he was only out to her. But, still, sometimes he wished Eddie could just  _ know _ . He was sure he’d still want to be friends, Eddie was openly gay, for Christ’s sakes!

“I’ll show you something  _ colossal _ , Eds.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows. 

That earned him a smack in the head. “Beep, beep, Rachel, you total  _ asshole _ ,”

Richie looked at him through his glasses. 

“I swear to  _ God _ , if you’re about to make an asshole joke-“

“Children, children!” Bev interrupted, descending the stairs with a cigarette in her hand,  _ clearly _ more about the flair of the thing than the purpose, seeing as she put it out before even taking a single hit and put it in her pocket. 

“Stop fighting, kids!”

“We aren’t  _ kids,  _ Bev,” Eddie said angrily, his nose all scrunched up and pink. 

_ Cute, cute, cute.  _

“I’m barely a year younger than you!” He complained. 

“I’m literally smack-dab between the thighs that are your birthdays-“ Richie said, his hand motions stopped by Eddie’s  _ fervent  _ hitting. 

“That one wasn’t even that clever! You are  _ not _ funny, Rach!”

He pretended to faint (difficult, given that he was already pretty much laying down). 

“You wound me, my Eds.”

Eddie poked him in the chest. “Get up, fuckface. Don’t make me worried about you.”

Richie sat straight up. “D’aww, did I get my little Eddie Spaghetti all worked up about me? Well if you think  _ that’s  _ the only way I can get you all riled up, E-“

“Christ, you guys are insufferable!” Bev said, stomping up the stairs, clearly upset she didn’t get the attention she wanted at that moment. 

It was fine, Richie would be all ears and closed lips for her later (he actually thought that’s why she offered him cigarettes, to give his mouth something other to do than talk constant shit), but for now, he was trying to build up some nerve. 

“She’s totally right, you know. You suck major ass.”

Richie pulled him into his lap. “Ah, you love it, Eds. Besides, she said it to you, too!”

“That doesn’t count, she doesn’t mean it to  _ me, _ I’m her little brother!” Richie saw how he didn’t fight the movement, or how his hands rested at his hips. 

“Sure it does!”

They sat in silence like that for a minute. Then when Richie felt the words all blocked up in his throat, flustering his face and choking him out, he tripped all over them. 

“I’m a boy.”

“What?” Eddie said, his eyes snapping up to Richie’s and widening in shock. 

“Y-yeah. I’m a boy. I’d rather you call me Richie. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I was, and that I lied for so long-“

Eddie grabbed Richie by his cheeks, which was kind of adorable because he squished them together. 

“That’s fine, Rich. I don’t mind. You’re still the same Trashmouth I know and love.”

“Love? Like… ” The words squeaked out of his throat like it hurt. 

Eddie inhaled and straightened his back, not letting go of Richie. 

“Yeah, I think so. Honestly, it’s easier for  _ me  _ if you’re really a boy, you made me question my  _ whole ass sexuality,  _ Tozier.”

Richie grinned brighter than the highlight in the other boy’s eyes. 

“I tend to have that effect on p-“

“Shut up, asshole,” Eddie said, pulling Richie’s face towards him and lining up their lips  _ just  _ so. 

Richie blew air onto Eddie’s mouth (in all honesty, just to hear him freak out about it later) before kissing him. 

They pulled apart a few seconds later, two completely red  _ messes.  _

“You’re okay with me being a boy?”

Eddie nodded. “It makes sense.”

“I’m not even going to  _ ask _ what  _ that  _ was supposed to me-“

“BEVERLY FUCKING MARSH, I AM GOING TO END YOU.” Eddie scrambled off of Richie’s lap, chasing a giggling Bev up the stairs. His guess was just that she watched the kiss, which he didn’t really mind. 

_ The kiss, the kiss, the kiss, the kiss, _

Richie’s mind was going a mile a minute, but it still hadn’t fully caught up yet. 

Eddie was  _ okay _ with him. 

Eddie  _ liked  _ him. 

Then again, Eddie also liked the Atari, so maybe that says that he has an  _ awful _ taste in boys. 

Richie would have to agree. You’d have to have an awful taste in boys to kiss a Trashmouth. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it’s been so long!

Caffeine is supposed to help, right? Richie thought just a bit helplessly as his leg bounces and his hands fidget. He looked up as though he expected an answer to be right in front of him, tossing his curls as he did so. He looked around, and as it turns out, the answer was right in front of him- if you count half a block away. 

He started walking towards it, noting how the little brown café had a nicer appearance than their next customer- it was made out of something Richie was almost sure was called stucco, and its windows were painted on, clearly displaying the name and the daily specials. That being said, Richie doesn’t have high hopes. 

You open a caffeine supply across from theater kids, your standards are definitely going to be low. 

Richie approached the door and pulled the handle. A little bell went off, alarming him more than the men behind the counters. He looked up, barely shaken, and looked at the first man behind the counter. Who, it seems, had decided to fucking pierce Richie with his eyes. 

There’s no way this counts as eye contact, He thought, just a bit intimidated, This has gotta be some kind of deeper situation, like...mind contact or some shit. 

However, if Richie was being perfectly honest, he thought those kinds of things about eight times a year.

Connection-at-first-sight, and all that bullshit. He broke the contact first, looking at the rest of his face. He was golden and caramel, there wasn’t any other real way to say it. Freckles and eyelashes and blush, he was sweet and bright. 

I should probably just order a fucking coffee instead of continuing to stare like a freak. 

Richie walked up to the counter, very impressed with himself when he didn’t trip. 

“Can I get a large-“

“If you want coffee, you’re in the wrong line,” The other man said, looking bored and particularly pale seeing as his face was covered in flour. “You’ll have to go over there,” He pointed a pastry covered finger towards The Mind Contacter, who rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up, Stan,” He said, lightly glaring at him. He turned back to Richie. “Sorry, I guess he just didn’t want to stop what he’s doing to ring you up. He’s making ’matilda’s, or some shit.” He smiled with a weary what-can-you-do kind of attitude behind it. Richie smiled back. 

“They’re called Madeleines, Eddie, and they need my full attention.” Stan flipped him off, flinging a bit of the dough at him. 

Eddie wiped the bit off of his cheek. “Sorry,” He giggled like a little kid, and it made Richie’s grin go wider. “What can I get for you?”

“A large of whatever has borderline too much caffeine and sugar, honestly,” 

Eddie glanced up at him as he grabbed a cup and a marker. “That sounds healthy,” He noted.

“Oh, yeah, I’m a total health nut. I spend all day at the gym, as you can see.” Richie waved at his scrawny body, not wearing anything bulky. Just the usual skinny jeans and oversized button up. 

“The girls must be all over you,” Eddie in a clearly sarcastic tone. “Can I get a name for the order?” 

“927-739-9274” Richie blurted out, amazed he knew his own number at this point. 

“Wait-“

Richie spun on his heel and walked the fuck out of there, not sure what made him say that and still feeling the need for caffeine. What the fuck did I just do? He thought, buzzing slightly from the spontaneity of it. A few minutes later, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

(Unknown): I never got a name for your order, dumbass. :)

Richie smiled and typed out his response, heading home mindlessly and forgetting all about his quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! first of all, 800 hits is crazy and i appreciate it a lot! especially if you’ve commented/given me kudos! i understand that getting past the first couple of chapters was probably hard because of the complete lack of exposition haha.
> 
> second of all, sorry if i don’t post as much, i’ve been working on a really big (reddie) project with my friend (@jjjjuicy) and i honestly can’t wait to release it! i can’t give too much away but what i will say is that it’s vaguely romeo and juliet, and that you haven’t read anything like it before :))


	11. circus au

NOT AN UPDATE!

ME AND MY GOOD FRIEND MADE A REDDIE CIRCUS/GREASERS AU AND THE FIRST CHAPTER IS UP ON MY PAGE!

PLEASE GO READ, IM SO PROUD AND ITS GOING SO WELL


	12. hello

hey!,!

if you haven’t already, check out the reddie fic i am writing right now!!

im not sure i’ll continue this?

i want to write some deaf eddie fluff, but after that i don’t have any inspiration. feel free to make suggestions, though!

i might re-write these oneshots for practice because they’re Shit

no promises

otherwise

expect some spiderman fic soon!!


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